If In The Past
by Marauder
Summary: Sirius's unsent letters to Remus, written in Azkaban...Part of the If In The Series. RLxSB. AU since OOTP.
1. The First Day

If In the Past by Marauder

Note: This fic is the companion to If In The Beginning and If In The End. It is also slash, RL/SB. Don't like? Don't read.

Chapter One: The First Day

Dear Remus,

For some inexplicable reason, parchment and quills are readily available in Azkaban. They charge enormous prices for them, of course, knowing that those of us with the money will pay anything for something that will help us maintain our sanity just a little longer.

I write this to you, Remus, not because I expect you to ever read it, but because I need to record my memories before the Dementors take them from me and I'd like to think I'm telling them to a friend, not a cold blank unfeeling piece of paper. That is, if you still are my friend. You probably think I killed Lily and James, just like the rest of the world. And I don't blame you. How should you know I didn't, we've barely seen each other all year. And the last time I ever shared anything really personal with you was that night in our sixth year. Yes, _that_ night – the one when we ended up kissing in the Shrieking Shack. The night when you said you loved me but couldn't be with me, because people would treat me like a freak.

God, Remus, I was so stupid. All I could see was that you'd given me the one thing I'd always wanted and never hoped to get and then taken it away. I couldn't see that you didn't _want_ to do this to me, couldn't see that, in pushing me away, you were showing your practical side once more. Maybe I got the better grades, but you were more mature. You knew that if we became lovers it could bring more grief than happiness.

I screamed at you. I told you I had never loved you, that I had lied. If I could go back in time and change one thing, I'd be James and Lily's Secret Keeper. But if I could change two things, I'd never have said that I didn't love you. Do you know that that was the real lie? You must, you must have known that. Please know that.

My mind wasn't clear that night, Remus. Forgive me.

After I ran out of the shack, I tried to kill myself. _There's_ something you never knew. I tried to drown myself in the lake. James and Lily pulled me out and saved me. I learned later that they'd seen me on the map going into the lake and had rushed out immediately, sensing something was wrong.

It wasn't until December of our seventh year that I knew you didn't know. I had assumed James had told you; how else can you explain a friend in the hospital wing with pneumonia for three weeks without telling the truth? We were reading in History of Magic about Patricius the Passionate, who submitted himself to the claws of a hippogriff upon learning that Demetria of Coventry, his betrothed, had eloped with Aquario of Lancaster. "Can you imagine," you said, "someone actually _killing_ themselves over another person? He must have really loved her." I was silent.

When you and Peter were asleep, I confronted James. "You never told him," I hissed through clenched teeth. "You lied to him, told him some story."

James looked me right in the eye. "Yeah, I did, and I'm not going to tell him the truth, either." Before I could speak, he continued, "Sirius, he won't be able to take it. He refused you because he didn't want you to suffer; it'll be unbearable for him to know that something he did made you so miserable that you didn't want to live anymore. If you still love him, don't make _him_ suffer too."

I digested his words for a second. Then I said, "How did you know he refused me because he didn't want me to suffer?"

"You talked in your sleep the first few days in the hospital wing. I went to see you every day after classes for the first week."

"You did?"

"I did."

"I only remember you there once. And Lily, I remember Lily. Did…did Remus come of see me? And Peter?"

"Of _course_ they did," said James.

A half-forgotten memory flashed across my mind. I remembered you sobbing by the side of my bed – or else I remembered a dream, I wasn't sure which. And then I had a memory so strong it was almost a flashback. Commotion. Blood. Madam Pomfrey's eyes widening. A knife. Screams. Hazel eyes spilling tears. Bandages. You. And a voice…a voice saying, "I did it. I did it myself." You in a bed across from mine, curled up and weeping.

"Remus cut himself, didn't he."

"Yes," said James, startled. "He did." He looked old suddenly, forty instead of eighteen. 

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I whispered.

"For the same reason he doesn't know you tried to kill yourself."

I can write no more today.

Sirius


	2. Love and Longing

Chapter Two: Love and Longing

Dear Remus,

I dreamed last night that we were making love. Everything was perfect: James and Lily were alive, I was free, and we were together. Then I woke up and wept for an hour. The Dementors were quite pleased, as you can imagine.

It's ironic, but I've never slept with anyone. Strange but true: Sirius Black, once the ideal man of half of Hogwarts' female population, a virgin. Of course, it doesn't matter if half of Hogwarts' female population lusts after you if you want men. Well, not all men. Just one.

I came close to losing my virginity. This was later, after we had finished school, when I was nineteen. It wasn't the stupidest things I've ever done, but it's pretty high up on the list. He was a Muggle; I'd only known him for about three hours; he picked me up in a bar; we were both drunk. Not the most romantic of circumstances. By the time we'd gone back to his flat, I was sober enough to know that I was doing an idiotic and potentially dangerous thing. As he was undressing me, I told him I'd changed my mind. He threw me out, slammed the door, and then opened it once more to throw my shirt out.

You and I managed to stay friends after that night. I don't know how we did it, but we still managed to laugh and joke and have adventures with James and Peter, despite all that had happened. And they were great adventures too, some of our wildest. Do you remember when we took the de-flamed dragons from the Care of Magical Creatures stable out for a ride? That was the one and only time we were ever caught – by Filch, unfortunately. If we _had_ to be caught, I'd much rather have been caught by Dumbledore or McGonagall or someone I at least respected. Filch confiscated the Marauder's Map. Probably _still_ has that thing, and probably _still_ doesn't know how to work it.

Then there was the time we stole the snake statue from the Slytherin common room and put it in the mouth of the Gryffindor lion. Remember how Professor Delphian thought it was an omen? Good God, I never met a man so thick before. The other professors, of course, realized it was a prank…how you ever managed to sit though Divination with that man is beyond me.

Good memories. Yes, I must focus on good memories, for the amount of time I have before the Dementors take them is limited. 

The night before we graduated, there's a good memory. We were sitting at the table in our dormitory, playing chess, when James and Lily burst through the door, wide grins spread across their faces.

"What are you two so happy about?" you asked, but the look in your eyes told me you suspected what it was, as I did.

"We're engaged," said James. Lily held out her hand, which displayed a sparkling emerald ring. We whooped and hollered, slapping James on the back. I picked up Lily and spun her around, both of us laughing.

That night was even better than graduation day itself. We took them out to dinner in Hogsmeade to celebrate. Lily was chattering away about wedding plans and James was saying, "Lily, don't talk their ears off, they don't care if your dress is going to be white or cream." But he was smiling, and she was so excited that she didn't care what any of us thought.

"Of course we care," you said, smiling warmly. "I vote for cream."

"White," said Peter. "It'll match her skin."

"But then she'll look washed-out," I said. "Cream, Lily, definitely cream."

James rolled his eyes. Lily reached out and messed up his hair, causing him to yelp in protest.

We were so noisy that the Hogwarts students from other tables came over to see what was happening. Even a couple of Slytherins actually told them congratulations, remember?

You looked happier that night than I'd seen you in a long time. You've always been like that, genuinely happy for other people. I love you, Remus.

Sirius


	3. Lyrio Sapphirius

Disclaimer: Okay, I've been forgetting to do this. If you recognize a character from Harry Potter, it's J.K. Rowling's. If there's a character you don't recognize from HP, it's mine.

Chapter Three: Lyrio Sapphirius

Dear Remus,

I can't believe I've been in here a week already. I wonder what you're doing right now. It's just after noon; you've probably just finished eating and are getting ready to go out looking for work again. Or perhaps you've found something by now. What are you thinking about me, I wonder. For I'm sure you do, because after a week I will not have become a ghost to you yet. When we were younger, I used to wish I could change your mind, and now I wish that again. I hope that you don't believe I murdered Lily and James, but in a way it doesn't matter because I probably will never see you again.

They brought in Barty Crouch Jr. today. His cell is down the hall from mine, and he hasn't stopped screaming since they put him in it.

I wonder where my wand is now. Thirteen inches, birch, dragon heartstrings…it's probably been snapped.

They say you go mad in Azkaban. I don't think it's happened to me yet, but it's definitely happened to Evan Rosier, whose cell is next to mine. I can't see him, but I can hear him babbling about how Voldemort is going to come and rescue him. Then sometimes he thinks he's free and sitting in his parlor at home.

Memories. I've got to get back to memories. The first time I met you and James, I'll start with that.

I already knew Peter befor we began school, because the Pettigrews were the only other wizarding family in our village. We only saw each other on occasion, though, because our families weren't particularly close and I was basically a loner as a kid. My parents homeschooled me, and for most of the afternoon and evening each day I was left to my own devices. I spent a great portion of that time reading or exploring the unused parts of the house, which were many because our house was meant to accommodate several generations of a family and all their servants. My parents and I rattled around in it like marbles in an empty drawer.

"I've told Marjorie Pettigrew that we'd take Peter and Richard to the station tomorrow," said my mother at dinner on August thirty-first of my eleventh year. Mr. Pettigrew was always at work, and his wife, as you know, suffers from agoraphobia and keeps close to home.

I rolled my eyes. Peter, remember, was at his most clingy when we were in our first year and I had no desire to begin a new school with him sticking to me like a particularly stubborn burr. "Why can't Richard just take the two of them by himself?" I whined.

"Well, I'm sure he could, but he's only a third-year and it makes Mrs. Pettigrew feel better to know someone got them there safely. Honestly, Sirius, don't _whine_." 

"Polaris is late," said my father, pouring himself another butterbeer. "He said he'd be home my five-thirty and it's just after six o'clock." My brother Polaris was coming back home for a few days. He was twenty-two at the time; I was my parents' late-in-life child. He worked at Diagon Alley, but it was going to be closed for a few days for repairs and he had decided to seize the opportunity to visit. He had warned us that his three roommates were coming also. As we were eating dessert, I heard his key turn in the lock.

I don't think you've ever met my brother Polaris. We've never been close, what with the age difference and everything. He's short, stocky, and the only way you can tell we're related is by our hair, which is the exact same color and texture except that his is cut short. 

He walked into the dining room with a tall, slender, dark-skinned boy in tow. Two others followed, but I hardly saw them; my gaze was fixed on the tall one.

You would have been mesmerized by this boy too, Remus, I'm sure. He had lush, full lips, and the longest, most curly eyelashes I'd ever seen. His eyes were like liquid chocolate and his close-cropped hair exposed his delicate ears. He seemed to be made entirely of long, sloping, gentle lines, and I stared, transfixed. His eyes met mine for a second and in that second I longed to delve into the deepest depths of his soul and see what lay there, and discover if it was as beautiful as his exterior.

"I missed you too, Sirius," said Polaris sarcastically. I blinked, startled.

"Oh, sorry. Hello, Polaris."

He rolled his eyes. "This is my kid brother Sirius," he told his friends. I scowled at the word "kid", feeling suddenly inferior and inadequate. He introduced his friends to the family. The names of the other two escape me, but I will always remember that the name of the languidly beautiful young man was Lyrio Sapphirius. 

We all moved into the parlor, and my parents began the polite ritual of asking each of the young men questions about themselves without being too prying. Lyrio Sapphirius, I learned, worked at Flourish and Blotts along with Polaris. The other two worked next door. Lyrio was engaged to be married in the spring and was moving to Edinburgh then. 

After an hour a few hours of this talk, most of which I tuned out, my brother and his friends, tired from the journey, decided to retire. My father assigned me to the task of hauling their suitcases up the stairs and into their rooms. Due to the size of the house, each boy had his own room.

I'd been in bed for about two minutes when I heard one of the friends, whose name I can't remember, come down the stairs and rap on a door across the hallway. "Lyrio!" he whispered. "Could I have that book I lent you back?"

"Certainly," came a rich and melodious voice from down the hallway. I realized that Lyrio's room was a mere three doors away.

I lay in bed, listening to the young man clomp back up the stairs and trying to figure out what it was about Lyrio, a man I had known for only about three hours, that fascinated me so much. It wasn't personality, for he was very quite and I had not yet discovered what sort of man he was. All I knew of him was what I have told you. The thought entered my mind that he fascinated me because he was handsome, but I hurriedly dismissed it. Why should I care if he was handsome? But I did, and therein lay the enigma.

I pondered it a few minutes more, but drew no satisfactory conclusions. I then heard light snoring coming from down the hall. Without knowing why, I walked down the hallway and into Lyrio's room.

He had set down his suitcase next to the bed and taken only a few essentials out of it. The half-moon shown through the open window and onto his ebony skin. I drew a sharp breath. He opened his eyes suddenly and sat up with a start. 

"I'm sorry," was the first thing that popped out of my mouth.

"No, it's all right," he said, sitting up even further. He had no shirt, and his chest was small yet muscular. "I'm not angry, only curious. Why are you in my room?"

"No reason," I mumbled, humiliated. He eyed me cynically. "Well, of course I have a reason, but it's awfully stupid."

"Try me," he said, a small and gentle smile upon his face. "I won't laugh."

Behind the melodious rise and fall of his voice was a quality of earnestness, and I decided to trust him. "I thought you were handsome."

"Ah." He looked at me directly. "I must say, I'm flattered. You're going to be quite stunning yourself in a few years."

I blushed furiously, trust vanishing and uncomfortable tension taking its place. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not propositioning you, only stating a fact."

I squirmed even more at the word "propositioning", vaguely aware that it meant something of a secretive and intimate nature. He continued, "There's nothing wrong with you thinking I'm handsome. I've stared at quite a few men myself."

"What about your fiancee?" I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I could rethink them.

"A person can fancy both men and women, you know."

"I never said I FANCIED you!" I said hotly.

"Nor did I. Calm down, Sirius, I'm trying to be reassuring, not to scare you." He laughed suddenly. "How long have I known you? Three hours?"

We looked at each other in silence for a few minutes. Then I said, "How do you know if you like both men and women?"

"Polaris tells me you're quite a reader. How do you know you like to read? You just know it, don't you? It's the same with everything people desire."

"Does your girlfriend know?"

"Yes. So does your brother."

"You're lucky. I don't really know what I want," I blurted awkwardly.

"Neither did I, at your age. Don't worry about it, you'll figure it out. Now, Polaris tells me you're starting Hogwarts tomorrow. You need your sleep."

"Lyrio?"

"What is it?"

I was trembling but full of a newly awakened desire, anxious but longing. "Can…can I kiss you?"

"No. I'm engaged, I'm nine years older than you, you barely know me, you're my friend's little brother, and it's entirely inappropriate." His face softened suddenly. "Save it for someone you love, Sirius."

I took his advice, Remus. You were the first person I ever kissed.

Your Sirius


	4. Sorting, Snape, and Sighs

Chapter Four: Sorting, Snape ,and Sighs

Dear Remus,

Well, that was quite a tangent yesterday, wasn't it? I start off intending to talk about when I first met you and James and end up reminiscing about my crush on Lyrio Sapphirius. It just goes to show how no one event in a man's life is isolated from the others.

The following morning, Mother and I went to Peter's house to collect him and Richard. Father stayed behind with Polaris and the others, who were still asleep. He wished me good luck.

Peter's mother was the same as she always is: timid, nervous, twitching, and frantically darting her eyes about. She was wearing a flowered dress under a ruffled apron, which Peter's little sister Meredith was clinging to. Mrs. Pettigrew ushered us in quickly, probably afraid of what would happen if the door was left open for too long. Peter and Richard were standing in the kitchen with their trunks. Richard looked cheerful enough, but Peter looked as though he'd seen a particularly frightful spectre.

Marjorie Pettigrew gave them each several instructions, mostly concerning how they were to study and what vitamins they were to take at what times and what sort of dangerous activities they were to stay away from. Richard rolled his eyes, but Peter nodded fervently at every command, his eyes wide.

"They'll be fine, Marjorie," said my mother when Mrs. Pettigrew began to repeat herself. "We'd better go, or they'll miss the train."

With a final sniff, Mrs. Pettigrew said goodbye to her sons and allowed them to go. The Portkey for Hogwarts was located about a quarter of a mile away, uphill. Peter whined the entire time about how long it was and how tired he was getting. When we reached the crisps bag on the ground, my mother, myself, Peter, and Richard all grasped hold of it and momentarily found ourselves standing in Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Richard spotted a few mates of his, and dragged Peter off to meet them. My mother seized the opportunity to talk to me in private.

"Sirius," she said, "I want you to be particularly kind to Peter, especially in the first week. I'm afraid the poor boy's inherited some of his mother's anxiety. He's going to need a little help getting used to school."

I nodded, agreeing with her about Peter's lesser qualities but not wanting him too attached to me either. Then Richard and Peter came back to where we were standing and it was time to get on the train.

"I hope I don't get sick," moaned Peter as we climbed aboard. "I always get frightfully sick on trains."

"He's exaggerating," whispered Richard. "The last time he was sick on a train he was five years old and had just eaten too much ice cream."

Once we and all our luggage were on the train, it became apparent that Richard intended to share a compartment with his friends, leaving me alone with Peter. Letting out an irritated breath, I grabbed Peter and pulled him into the nearest compartment. And that's when I first saw you.

The first thing that struck me was how pale you were, as if you had never seen the sun. Pale, and thin, with long fingers and eyelashes. Your hair was just long enough to be pulled back and it was, with a strap of brown leather. You were wearing the black Hogwarts robes already, which accentuated the pallor of your skin. As the door opened you turned, looked at us, and smiled. Your eyes surprised me; bright and lively hazel, they were welcoming fires in the snow of your skin.

"Hello," you said. "I'm Remus Lupin." And you put out your hand for me to shake. I grasped it and felt its warmth, which surprised me. You shook Peter's hand next, and I sat down next to you.

"I'm Sirius Black," I said. "We'll get along fine if you don't make any remarks about how my hair matches my surname." You grinned, flashing pearly teeth.

The door opened and another black-haired boy entered, his hair hanging in his face and his eyebrows arched.

"Hello," said Peter cheerfully (for him). The boy nodded sharply and sat down next to him.

Not a particularly cheerful fellow, but I thought I'd at least make an effort. "Are you a first-year too?" I asked him.

"Unfortunately. With my knowledge, I really ought to be at _least_ a third-year. Father spoke to Dumbledore about it, but the man simply refused to let me move up."

You glanced at me and made a face. I tried not to laugh. "I'm Peter Pettigrew," said Peter.

The boy nodded curtly. "Severus Snape." You and I introduced ourselves again.

I can't remember very much of what we talked about on that train ride. What I do remember is the smooth line of your eyebrows, the waviness of your hair, the delicate skin of your lips as you spoke. Whatever is was we talked about, it was enough that by the time we reached school we were quite friendly and decided to share a boat across the lake.

Luckily for us, Snape, who had not said a single word the entire journey, found another boat. Peter sat next to me before you could, I remember that. A boy with spiky hair approached our boat. "Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked.

"Go ahead," you said.

"Thanks," he said, grinning. "I only know one other person who's going to be in our year, Lily Evans, but we're not exactly friends. I'm James Potter."

We all told him our names as we pushed the boat off the shore. "Sirius!" he said. "That's the name of a star, isn't it?"

"Yeah. My parents are astronomers…my brother's name is Polaris."

"I'd rather be named either of those then James," said the boy of that name. "Too bloody common…there were three other boys called James in my year at Muggle school."

"Are you Muggle-born, then?" Peter asked.

"No, we're all magic in my family, but my parents figure that because there are more Muggles then wizards, we'd better understand them. School with Muggles was all right, mostly…except one time I had to take a letter home because Lily Evan's hair had turned green."

"Do you know her well, then?" I asked.

"Unfortunately. She's a bit annoying."

"My family's all-magic too," said Peter. "Except my mum doesn't do a whole lot anymore."

"Opposite of my mum," you said. "She's a witch and my dad's a Muggle."

By that time we had reached the castle. We were all ushered in and told about the Sorting Ceremony.

My stomach was in knots. Polaris had written me a letter a few weeks previous telling me about all the pros and cons of the different houses. He'd been a Ravenclaw. I was petrified that I'd be in Slytherin.

"Aaron, Sylvia!" read McGonagall from the list. A short and curly-haired girl placed the hat on her head. After a few seconds, it declared her a Hufflepuff.

"Abner, Mark" was a Ravenclaw; "Adder, Fae" was a Slytherin. "Amina, Todd" and "Attanagos, Maria" were both Hufflepuffs. "Baker, Terpsichore" was the first new Gryffindor.

Bamner…Bennock…Bhavra…and then, "Black, Sirius!"

I stepped forward tentatively and placed the hat on my head. "Ah, Sirius Black," it said. "Quite nervy, aren't you. Headstrong and driven…oh, this is difficult. I could easily place you anywhere. You're bright enough for Ravenclaw, brave enough for Gryffindor, ambitious enough for Slytherin, loyal enough for Hufflepuff…I may have to…yes, I think I will. Haven't had to do this in a quarter of a century…"

"Do what?" I asked.

"I'm going to look into your future," said the hat, "and determine which skill you're going to need the most. Give me a minute here. Ah…oh, I see…hmm…oh…oh no…oh good…interesting…bravery, you'll need bravery in spades. GRYFFINDOR!"

Relieved but wonder what my future would hold (oh, if only I knew), I proceeded to the Gryffindor table and took a seat. About twenty minutes later, you came and sat next to me. Your face was even whiter and your hands were shaking. "What is it?" I asked, concerned.

"That hat…it really _can_ see everything in your head, can't it."

"Yeah," I said, shuddering to myself. It occurred to me that I should have asked the hat whether I liked boys or girls, but it was too late now.

Peter sat down next to us, and I had to stop myself from groaning. "I say," you said, "there's that other boy who was on the boat with us. James, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," said Peter.

"Gryffindor!" cried the hat, and James took a place at the table next to Peter.

"So," he said, "we'll all be in a dormitory together, then."

"Peter snores, I'll warn you," said Richard from the Hufflepuff table.

"I do not!"

"Yes you do. Hey, look at that kid! Probably never saw a bottle of shampoo in his life."

Severus Snape was putting on the Sorting Hat, which immediately declared him a Slytherin.

"Yeah, I met him on the train, he's called Snape," I said. "Nasty little git, couldn't be bothered to smile or anything."

"With _my_ knowledge," you mimicked, arching your eyebrows exactly as he had done. Before you could finish, we all started laughing.

"Do that again, that was funny!"

"You sounded just like him!"

Even James, who hadn't met Snape yet, was in convulsions.

"With my _superior_ knowledge," you began again, "I should be –" Then you stopped abruptly. Snape was standing directly behind you.

~~*~~

"What a creep," said James later that night as we were unpacking our suitcases in the dormitory.

"The remark he made about how the collective brains of the Gryffindor first-years could fit in a teacup was highly unnecessary," you said, a hint of a smile on your face. "Oh well, just proves we bothered him. If we didn't, he wouldn't have said anything."

"We still haven't decided who's taking what bed," said Peter, changing the subject.

"I call the one by the window," you said.

"I'll take the one next to it," I said immediately. James took the one after that, leaving Peter the bed closest to the door. As I was getting under the covers, I heard a cackle and a series of loud pops.

"PEEVES!" you yelled. Grinning madly, the poltergeist danced around in a sort of mad jig about your bed. All of the mattress spring had been popped through the covers and the bed was in ruins.

"Loony loopy Lupin, loony loopy Lupin…"

"Say, how does he know your name?" Peter asked.

"He and his mother came over the summer to talk to Dumbledore," said Peeves smugly. "About some very secret things…"

"Out!" I yelled. He zoomed out of the open window.

"Now what am I going to do?" you asked impatiently. "Damn him…now I've got to get a new mattress. Dumbledore ought to throw him out."

"These beds fit two people," said James. "You can bunk with one of us until it gets fixed."

"Yeah, you can take mine," said Peter.

"Sorry, you snore," you said with devilishly dancing eyes. Then you turned to me. "Can I share yours?"

Four words. Just four little words, and I was yours. I nodded, and your long, warm, thin body slind into bed next to me.

I rolled over and turned off the light, secretly glad that Peeves had wrecked the mattress.

Love, Sirius


	5. Hope Arisen

Chapter Five: Hope Arisen

Dear Remus,

Last night, I was as wakeful was I was that first night in the dormitory. The reasons differ, but I'll get there in a minute.

On that night in the dormitory ten years ago, I sat up and pondered my strange fascination with men. Why was it, I wondered, that they enticed me, caught my attention, haunted my thoughts? One look from the eyes of a handsome man and I longed to know his most hidden secrets. It occurred to me somewhere around midnight that I could conjure up no satisfactory picture of a life spent with a woman. I had nothing against women and was not nor am I now a misogynist, but the thought did not appeal to me. Around one in the morning I fell asleep, having drawn no satisfactory conclusions but finding solace in Lyrio's advice that one day I would figure things out.

Last night, my insomnia resulted from a dark and burning rage. I was reading over the letters I've written and I realized that they were all that remained of my former life. My sole reason for existing is to write fruitless missives to a person who will never read them. I flew into a fury and began to through whatever I could find across the cell. When I had thrown all that was there, I pounded the walls and wailed. The Dementors stood outside my cell, and I fell onto the floor, my worst memories flashing before my eyes. The icy water of the Hogwarts lake, entering my lungs and numbing my emotions with its frigid sting. The scar on your arm, marring that beautiful body and informing the world of the pain within. Peter screaming at me in the street, his every syllable sealing my fate. James and Lily's lifeless bodies, their eyes blank and devoid of all the joy and love that had once dwelled there.

"I DON'T DESERVE ANY OF THIS!" I screamed. "I'M INNOCENT! DO YOU HEAR ME? INNOCENT!"

And the Dementors took a step back.

I couldn't believe it. They retreated. They will be back, but they retreated.

Remus, there is hope that one day you will read these letters. I love you more than I can say.

Your Sirius.


	6. Amoria Wist

Chapter Six: Amoria Wist

Dear Remus,

Five months have passed since I last wrote. We've both turned twenty-two. These months have been very intense and slow-moving for me, but I had made some progress.

My days have schedule and routine now. Every morning I read The Daily Prophet cover to cover before breakfast so that I will remember that life still goes on outside of this miserable fortress. I meditate on my innocence until lunch. I chant the word, spell it in sign language, tear out letters from the newspaper and rearrange them to spell it, etch it in the walls, write it in the dust. After lunch I spend time contemplating all my good memories. I haven't been writing them down, but have decided to do so again. The good I will write so that I don't forget them. The bad I will write so that I will be the one who forces myself to remember them and not the Dementors.

Amoria Wist. There is a girl that I will never forget, though I wish I could. Dark blonde, loud, persistent, and without shame, she was a bit player in the story of my life until the end of September in our fifth year.

As I was walking from Potions to Care of Magical Creatures, she approached me in the hall. "Hey, Sirius, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I said, uneasy but a little curious.

"You're good friends with Remus Lupin, right?"

"Yeah," I said, hoping this conversation wasn't heading where I thought it might be.

"Does he ever talk about me?"

You had, once; I recall you saying that she'd look a whole lot better if she left her hair down and didn't pull it back so severely. 

"Not really," I said.

"Do you think he'd go out with me if I asked him?"

The Marauders were three weeks away from the Animagi transformations. At that moment it was not Sirius who reacted but Padfoot, with the possessive fervor of an animal whose prospective mate was being approached by a rival. But Sirius triumphed over Padfoot, and decided to be fair.

"I don't know," I said. "Ask him and see."

And she did. You accepted.

Remus, what in the hell were you thinking? You weren't attracted to her, she'd never interested you. You didn't love her. You loved _me_, Remus, and I loved you. Me, _I_ did. I was willing to give your everything you ever wanted. I risked going through the highly dangerous spell to become an Animagus for you. I once saved you from the Whomping Willow, though that happened after you ended things with Amoria. I knew you better than anyone. I kept your secrets and got you water to clean your wounds after every full moon, though you'd never let me see them. I used to leave Chocolate Frogs on your pillow, in your bag, next to whatever book you were reading. I wanted you to share my bed and my life forever, and I knew that by the time we were fifteen.

And Amoria Wist took down her hair, smiled, and asked you out, and you accepted.

It must have been because you were scared. By the time we were fifteen, I'd heard people wonder about you: why you were always missing school, why you looked so sick…and another rumor, occasionally whispered: "D'you think he's queer?" Having a girlfriend was a way you could prove you were like everybody else, even if you weren't.

Do you know, Remus, what the one thing I'd change about you if I could is? It's not your lycanthropy, and it's not your practicality-above-all-else nature. It's your fear. I can't stand watching how it limits your life.

You and Amoria kept going out for months, though you barely saw her. My resentment of her grew and grew. I found myself wishing she'd fail all her classes and be expelled, that she'd get sick and have to leave school, that she'd undergo some terrible accident and never return. The only comfort I had was that you never went out of your way to see her, and that when you did you always seemed distracted and absent.

One night in April, I snuck down into the common room with the Invisibility Cloak. I was hungry, and planning to go to the kitchens and get a sandwich or three. As I headed down the stairs, my heart stopped and my eyes stared.

You and Amoria were snogging on one of the couches. You were being quite gentlemanly about the whole affair, but she was wild: within seconds she had straddled you and was sucking on your neck.

I was livid. Doing the first thing instinct told me to do, I went back into the dormitory, grabbed a Foul-Smelling Stink Pellet, ran back to the stairs, and gave it an expert throw at Amoria's head. She screeched.

"Amoria, what is it? Oh my God…all right, who did that?"

James and Peter, hearing the screams, ran out of the dormitory. Peter ran directly into me and knocked me over, the cloak sliding away to expose most of my body.

Your face was a mask of bottled rage. "Amoria," you said, "I'm terribly sorry about all this. It won't happen again. Not after I've dealt with him. I'll see you in the morning."

With an expression somewhere between shock, rage, and befuddlement, she marched out of the portrait hole and went, presumably, back to the Hufflepuff Tower.

You faced me and the bottled rage exploded. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

"What do you think _you're_ doing?" I shot back. "If you have to snog, couldn't you find a more private place to do it?"

"That's no excuse for you to act like a stupid git! What the hell is the matter with you?!"

"WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH _ME_!" I roared. "I'm not the one snogging with some girl I don't even like!"

"Have you gone mad?" you screamed. "How should you know how I feel about Amoria!?"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!" hollered James. A bit intimidated, we both closed our mouths and stared. "Sirius, you're acting like a madman. Remus, he does have a point, the common room is not exactly the best place.

"I'd like to see what _you'd_ do if you were alone with Lily Evans there," you muttered.

He ignored you. "Sirius, what's between Remus and Amoria is what's between them, and not you. Stay out of it. Now, can we all act like rational human beings and go back to sleep?"

"You two can," you said, your eyes not leaving me. "Sirius and I have some things to discuss."

Surprisingly, your voice had become calm and even.

Exchanging looks, Peter and James went upstairs. As the door closed, you sat down on the couch and gestured for me to sit next to you.

"First of all," you said, "you're right."

Whatever I'd been expecting, that wasn't it.

"I don't like Amoria. Well, not romantically, she's nice enough, but…we're not really compatible." You sat further back and stared up at the ceiling. "Damn it, who am I trying to fool, anyway? I'm a freak and there's no getting around it."

"You're _not_ a freak!" I said, surprising myself with the intensity in my voice. 

"That's kind of you, Sirius, but I'm afraid you don't know everything about me."

The silence was long and uncomfortable. You stared at the ceiling. I stared at you and wished I could put my arms around you and hold you until you were able to cry and let everything you were feeling out.

Only a month before, I realized I was in love with you. I knew I was attracted to you since our second year, but it had been only recently that I discovered my feelings had grown and deepened.

"She wants things I can't give her," you said, your gaze coming down from the ceiling but still not looking at me. "Time. Emotion. Honesty. Devotion. Someone to carry her books and buy her presents and take her to dances. Sex." Then you cringed, realizing what you'd said.

"You…you can't…" I stammered, fervently hoping that lycanthropy didn't lead to impotency.

"No, I could if I wanted to. Physically, I could. But it doesn't feel right to me, the thought of sleeping with her."

I was positive that you could hear my loud, rapid, and nervous heartbeat. "Have you ever…you know…"

"Slept with anyone? My God, Sirius, you should see yourself blush. You're as red as the Gryffindor flag."

I think I blushed even redder. I couldn't believe that I was sitting down next to you, our thighs almost touching, in a nearly empty room talking about sex. The fact that you and Amoria had been snogging on the same couch minutes before made the whole thing even weirder.

"I haven't," you said, finally looking at me.

"Good," I said before I could stop myself. You gave me an odd look. "I mean, I'd worry about you if you had. We're only fifteen, you know."

"Then you haven't either."

"Er…no."

"You're blushing again."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"You know what," I said, desperate to change the subject, "I'm not really tired."

"I'm not either."

"I'm more hungry than anything else. Let's go down to the kitchens and get some food."

You laughed, and the tension in my body lessened. "I'm surprised you didn't become a pig when you did the Animagus transformation," you said, grinning.

"Said the man who once ate five rare steaks in a row," I retorted.

"Hey, that was not my fault, it was the afternoon just before the full moon."

"Oh, sure, _that's_ your excuse…"

"Come on, you idiot," you said, smiling, and walked through the portrait hole under the cloak together.


	7. In The Kitchens

Chapter Seven: In The Kitchens

Dear Remus, 

That night it was like we had crossed a bridge that crumbled just as we reached the other side. We had always been friends, but before it had been based on common interests and mutual outlooks. Now we were in a new territory – that of half-finished emotional confidences shared.

"Amoria's driving me mental," you said as we walked down the winding staircase. "She's so _persistent_. The next girl I date is going to be much more calm." Your words stung like a poison dart. I had been harboring a secret fantasy that you would confess that the reason you couldn't feel for Amoria was because you loved me. However, once again, reality had slapped me hard across the face.

"Yeah, she's a little intense," was what I said. "So, are you going to break it off with her, then?"

"Yeah, but I think I'll wait about a week so she won't think it's because I took your side in the stink pellet incident." You stopped on the landing and your face twitched. "Sorry. I don't mean to laugh. It wasn't funny."

"Completely non-humorous," I said, trying unsuccessfully not to snicker. 

"I mean, really, there isn't anything funny about a girl with odd hair being hit by a stink pellet…"

"…while she's sucking on a werewolf's neck…"

"…in the Gryffindor common room…" The last two words were a joyous shriek. Both of us burst out laughing.

"God, Sirius, you should have seen her eyes, I didn't know they could get so big…"

"From what I could see, they looked like a house-elf's."

"All right, all right, we have to stop, we're being cruel."

"Okay, just let me catch my breath."

Once I had done so, we proceeded down the next flight of stairs and into the corridor. A few feet away from the painting of the fruit, you stopped.

"Sirius, I've got a question for you."

"What?" I asked, still uncomfortable in the new land across the bridge.

"Why'd you throw it?"

"What?"

"Really, why did you throw it? I mean, that's something you might have done in our first or second year. It just struck me as really odd."

"I don't really know," I said half-truthfully. "I think I just lost my temper. I couldn't stand seeing you waste your time with someone you didn't really care for." I cannot even describe how much I wanted to kiss you right then.

You gave me that soft half-smile. "Sometimes I think you must know me better than anyone."

"I thought you said I didn't know everything about you."

"You don't." Pause. "But you know more about me than other people."

The silence continued for about five seconds until I said, "Come on, Moony, I'm hungry."

~~*~~

I wonder if the old house-elfs are still at Hogwarts. Remember the day that they made the Marauders our own table in the back? We painted it red and wrote "Marauders" on it in gold, and then we each painted our own chair. The next year, when Lily and James _finally_ got together, the elves made her a chair too…but I digress.

"Remus Lupin and Sirius Black!" squeaked Teema as we entered. "We have much food for you today, sirs!"

"Don't you always?" you asked, laughing.

"Of course, sir! But there is more than usual tonight…Deelee! Go and fetch the chocolate cake and butterbeer!"

Deelee gave out an excited squeal and hurried away. "Where is James Potter tonight, sirs?" asked Teema. 

"Asleep," you said. James was their favorite, but of course that was because he tipped them.

You pulled back your black and white painted chair with "Moony" written in cursive across the back in silver paint and sat down. I sat in mine, which was painted maroon and navy with "Padfoot" down one leg in gold block letters.

"I always wonder how the house-elfs get so hyperactive," I said.

"I think they take caffeine pills or something," you said as Deelee careened off the shelving and landed next to the table, cake and butterbeer unscathed.

"Feel free to ask it there is anything else you would like, sirs!" she squeaked.

"Thanks, Deelee," I said. She bowed and skipped off.

"Oh, look at this cake!" you exclaimed, digging in.

"And you say _I_ eat like a pig…"

"Shut up, Padfoot."

"Shut up yourself, Moony."

"Taste it, it's really good!"

"It could have been stepped on by people with muddy boots all day and you'd still think it's good because it's chocolate."

"Speaking of chocolate, I keep finding Chocolate Frogs in my stuff…"

"Pass the butterbeer," I interrupted.

"I wonder what's in this stuff anyway."

"Not much alcohol. You'd probably have to drink about thirty of them to get anywhere near drunk."

"I've never understood the point of getting drunk. All that happens is that you get sick and have a headache after making a complete ass of yourself."

"Speaking of making an ass of yourself, you've got chocolate smeared all over your mouth."

You did, too…it made you look like an animal that had just devoured its slain prey. I laughed. You tried to wipe it off but there was still one little stubborn spot that wouldn't leave, and I told you so. You swiped at it again with your napkin, but that just smeared it around.

"It's still there. Here, let me get it."

I leaned over and brushed it off with my fingers. You jumped a little, and rose from your chair.

"We'd better be getting back."

"What are you talking about, we just got here."

But I knew what it was…well, I knew a portion of what it was. I didn't know yet that the part of you I didn't know was your sexual attraction to me, but I did know that you were recoiling to prevent me from getting too close to whatever secret it was that you kept, and this knowledge hurt me.

Remus, do you ever wish that you could temporarily leave your body, take a step back, and look at your life? Well, that was how I felt right then. I had no idea exactly what was happening, wasn't sure of anything except that I loved you and that you were afraid of letting me get closer.

That's it, right there, the story of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black: I want you, you want me too but get scared, you leave, I'm devastated. Will I ever have a chance to change things? I'd give anything right now just to see you for a few seconds and say these words: Peter and I switched. I forgive you and I'll always love you.

Your Sirius


	8. Pain and Renewal

Chapter Eight: Pain and Renewal

Dear Remus,

Three years ago, Evan Rosier tried to escape. He was caught and died in the struggle. It was decided by the Ministry that the prisoners should be even more restricted, and all parchment, newspapers, and quills were taken away. Since Fudge became Minister, quills and parchment have been returned to us, although newspapers are still forbidden.

We're twenty-five, but I feel like an old warrior who has grown hardened and scarred from too many battles. My hair has become long and matted and my body is reduced to skin and bones. The past three years I have felt like a living dead man, but now I hope that this ink and parchment will help me feel alive again.

They let me keep the letters I wrote to you before, and I have read them so many times that I have them memorized. Reading them has been one of two things that has kept me sane, the other being my innocence.

I wonder what your life is like now. I know that as of two years ago you were an Auror, because Uris Dachner, who has Evan Rosier's old cell, keeps raving about how you captured him. His vocal cords are in constant use and he snores louder than Peter ever did. Thanks a lot, Moony.

Odd as it may sound, I hope you have a lover. You deserve that joy in your life. I hope he's kind and gentle and washes your wounds after the full moon and brushes back the tendrils of your hair and kisses your eyelids. I hope he's compassionate towards you, the way Lyrio was to me…twice.

The day after Lily and James left for their honeymoon, I set off towards your house, full of determination. Three days before, James had asked to speak with me as he was getting ready for the ceremony.

"Sirius," he said, as he was adjusting his dress robes, "I want you to promise me something before Lily and I leave."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Promise me that you'll tell Remus how you feel again before Lily and I get back."

I sighed. "James, it's not going to do any good. There's so much between us now –"

"Sirius, don't give me that crap. You're just making excuses. You still love him, you know you do, and I'm sick of watching you suffer. Just tell him. I'm not asking that you duel a Death Eater or fight a dragon. This isn't that hard."

I sighed. "All right, I will."

So, three days later, I was hurrying down the streets of Hogsmeade towards your flat. It was getting cool out, and the leaves were beginning to turn colors. I reached your doorstep and leaned in to press the doorbell. Then, suddenly, I stopped cold. A high and cursedly female voice was coming from inside.

"Remus…yes…oh God, yes…don't stop…"

My volatile temper reached its full capacity of rage. But I was no longer a boy who would throw something. I was a man new to adulthood who knew of nothing at that moment but my anger and sense of betrayal. 

It was as if someone else had taken over my body, someone who allowed my heart to keep beating and my lungs to keep taking in oxygen even if I no longer cared. This person Apparted to Diagon Alley and went from there into Muggle London. This person ordered several pints at a pub and got quite intoxicated. This other person went into a different pub with a pink triangle in the window and met a man there. The man and this strange inhabitor of my body went back to his flat. As the two of them lay there kissing, some survival instinct took over and I was myself again.

"No, wait, stop," I said to this strange Muggle man who was laying on top of me.

"What?"

"I change my mind."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I change my mind. I'll go now."

"You're damn right you will," said the stranger, and ejected first me and then my shirt into the corridor.

I stumbled, still somewhat drunk, out into the street. It was then that it hit me: I was a man whose one true love was sleeping with a woman he cared nothing about. I was drunk, I was tired, I looked like hell, and the one person who might have helped me was out of town basking in newly wedded bliss. I collapsed on the sidewalk and sobbed for at least five minutes without stopping. And then I heard, as if in a dream, a voice.

"Sirius?"

I looked up. The face was older, less languid and youthful, but it still retained a gentle grace. The eyelashes were still long and the eyes were still like melted chocolate. "L-L-Lyrio?"

He nodded and sat down next to me, right there on the sidewalk.

"I guess I look pretty awful, don't I," I said.

"Come on," he said, resting one hand on my shoulder. "Come walk with me. This isn't a good neighborhood to be in at this time of the night alone. I live a few blocks away. I'll take you back to my place. Come on."

He helped me up and continued to hold my hand as we walked down the sidewalk. I clung to him for dear life until we reached his apartment.

The apartment was sparse, with a few photographs taped to the walls and a bookshelf made of crates.

"Where's your wife?" was the first thing out of my mouth.

"We're divorced."

"Sorry."

"Never mind that, it's in the past. What happened to you?"

I began to sob again, feeling like the very personification of despair. He sat down next to me and put his arms around me.

I told him the complete story of my life since the last time we had met, stopping to wail at some parts. When I got to the part about the night in the Shrieking Shack, he held me even closer.

"Lie down," he said, when I had finished. "Lie down."

I lay down on his bed and he lay down next to me. He began to wipe away my tears with a handkerchief and stroked my hair.  
He stayed with me all throughout the night, comforting me when I had nightmares and whispering reassuring words into my ear. In the morning, he brought me toast and orange juice, and I looked up at him hesitantly.

"Lyrio, I…I don't think I know how to thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"No, really, I don't know what might have happened to me if you hadn't come along."

"Sirius, I want you to remember something," he said. "Everything that happens to us in this live happens to us for a reason. There is some meaning behind all this pain. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about." He looked away. "Now, I'll bring you back home."

Love, Sirius


	9. Blackmail

Chapter Nine: Blackmail

Dear Remus,

Of all the women in the world that you could have chosen to sleep with, you had to go and pick Dolores Nott. Of course, at that time, her brother had not yet been accused of being a Death Eater…but still, Dolores Nott?! The night James died, mere hours before, I visited him, and he told me the whole story.

"Remus isn't a spy, Sirius."

"What?"

At that time, you'd been with Dolores for two years. I hadn't directly spoken to you in six months.

"She's been blackmailing him."

Oh, Remus, why didn't you tell me? No, don't answer that, I know perfectly well why you didn't tell me. You thought I was a spy, and I don't blame you. I'd been moody and secretive, not answering my doorbell for weeks on end. How were you to know? In those days, any weird action was automatically suspicious.

James told me what you had told him. How you had decided to give playing by society's rules one last chance, and had decided to respond to Dolores's flirtations. How one night you'd had a bit too much to drink and ended up in bed with her. How you'd secretly cried afterwards because you'd lost your virginity and it hadn't been to me. How the next night was the night of the full moon. How she'd come back to your house to retrieve her lost purse and had seen you transform. How she'd fled in fear, but returned after the moon had waned and told you what she had seen. How she'd told you she was a Death Eater and promised to make your life miserable if you didn't betray James to her. You told her that you wouldn't. "Oh, but you will," she'd said. But Voldemort had decided that he didn't need James dead yet. Instead, she would keep you for when she needed you, leaving threatening messages on your doorstep and making your life one of constant fear. 

One night, you'd asked her if I was a Death Eater, and thereby gave away your weak spot. She refused to tell you. Now she no longer threatened to reveal your lycanthropy, but threatened to kill me instead. You were left with an impossible choice: the death of your beloved or you best friend. But then something happened that took the situation out of your hands. Peter became James and Lily's Secret Keeper. You didn't know that, but you knew that you no longer knew their whereabouts. You had no more information to give the Death Eaters. Dolores left you alone, but, frightened, you managed to find James and told him everything.

"You aren't safe," I said, when James had finished. "If Remus could find you, if I could find you, so could Voldemort. You two have got to leave this place."

"Yes, but you two had a few hints of where we might be," said Lily. "You both knew that we had bought a house here. Voldemort won't have the slightest idea."

"What if he captured Peter and tortured him?"

"You said it yourself, Sirius, no one is going to suspect Peter of being our Secret Keeper. Now, you'd better get back home."

But I wasn't going to go back home. I was going to go and find you, to tell you everything. Then I was going to take you far away from there, somewhere where we'd both be safe. But as I walked down the street, I decided I'd better check on Peter first.

You know the rest of the story.

Your Sirius


	10. The Discovery

Chapter Ten: The Discovery

Dear Remus,

Last night I made a wonderful discovery. I can still transform. 

You may find that an odd way to start a letter that really should be starting, "Sorry I haven't written these last few years," but my discovery is why I started writing again, and that's why I started my letter that way. I'm thirty and I've been in here for years, but I can still transform.

I cannot even _begin_ to describe how wonderful it was. Everything seemed so much simpler, so much more logical and less emotional. This could be very instrumental to my escape. Yes, I still plan to escape, and to find you, and to find Harry, and to try to have my named cleared.

Harry – he's ten years old now. Another year and he'll be getting his Hogwarts letter. I read in the paper shortly after I came to Azkaban that he went to go and live with his aunt and uncle. Muggles, weren't they? I have to concentrate very hard now to remember some things. I read over my previous letters recently and have only vague recollections of much of the things I wrote about. But I still remember you the most vividly, with James as a close second. 

Harry must think I'm guilty – that is, if his relatives have told him about me. I'm not sure what kind of people they are.

These past years have been full of strange dreams, half-delusions, and fading memories. But my innocence has kept me from forgetting who I am, and it has cleared my mind long enough to let me come to one conclusion: Life is too short and precious to not do what you want with it. James knew this. When he hesitated, it was rarely for very long. Even when he did something that ended with him getting detention or points deducted from Gryffindor, he could still be comforted by the satisfactory knowledge that he had not let fear stand in his way. He possessed an amazing determination – I was the one who thought we should become Animagi for you, but he was the one who forced us all to spend long hours in the library researching it. Peter was the one who had the idea for the Marauder's Map, but James was the one who spent hours thinking up ways to enchant it. 

Maybe people are meant to exist on this earth only until they have reached their full potential and their purpose for living is fulfilled. That's the only explanation I can find for why James and Lily had to die so young. Both of them were brave, intelligent, caring people who never hesitated to do what was right. I hope Harry's relatives have told him how wonderful his parents were. 

When I finally get out of here, I am going to find you and tell you that I have always loved you. I don't care of you're with someone else. Hell, I don't care if you're a married Death Eater with five children. I will not die satisfied unless you know the truth.

Yours always, Sirius


	11. Before The Escape

Chapter Eleven: Before The Escape

Dear Remus,

This last letter from Azkaban that I write to you will be very short, for in another few minutes the Dementors are coming with dinner and I will escape. Peter is alive. He's at Hogwarts, Remus. Right where Harry is. 

The thought of this gives me such a feeling of dread in my stomach that I feel physically ill. I let James and Lily die. I WILL NOT allow Harry to suffer the same fate. I am his guardian and godfather, and James made me responsible for him. I don't care if I die in the attempt, I owe this to Lily and James…and to myself.

When the Dementors come to give me food, I will slip all of these letters and the newspaper article I found about Peter (got it from Fudge, no time to fully explain) into my pocket, so I will have them after I transform. Then I will turn into a dog and slip my emaciated body through the bars. From there I will leave the island and swim to shore. My emotions confuse the Dementors when I am a dog. This is my only hope.

Remus…there is a chance that I will die without ever seeing you, and so therefore I will state plainly what I have already said in so many words, in case you ever read this letter. I love you more than life itself. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are the only person in the world that I ever want to be my lover, the only one who is perfect for me. Whether I am alive or dead, imprisoned or free, mad or sane, I shall always be,

Your Sirius.

THE END

Author's Note: So, what did you think? I adore reviews! If you liked this, I recommend reading If In The End and If In the Beginning, my two companion fics. I will start writing If In the Future (if which Sirius and Remus get together!!!) very soon, I promise. Love, Marauder


End file.
